Holly Peterson skyrocketed to fame by simply sitting in her worn-out car, recording her candid thoughts, and sharing them online. Success came swiftly, propelling her into the spotlight and into a whirlwind romance with a fellow celebrity-a high-pro...
ATTENTIONNNNN: IM GONNA NEED ALL OF YOU TO REREAD CHAPTER 17 TO FULLY UNDERSTAND ONE OF THE INSTAGRAM POSTS. THAT IS ALL
13k!!
Guys hahaha I'm so sorry for not posting yesterday, we had a really bad storm in my area and our power went out😭😭so I just went to sleep instead of #suffering with no WiFi anyways hope you enjoy this chapter it's an unusually happy one lots of fluff lots of humour which is definitely super duper funny!! (duh of course it is bc I'm writing it)
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tagged: @georgeclarkeey
liked by hollypeterson, arthurtv, wroetoshaw and 79,038 others
@haattieeb: my man my man MY MAN!!!
@arthurtv: No freaking way!! That's my man too
@hollypeterson: and the crowd....already knew!!
@georgeclarkeey: I am my own man thank you very much 😔
@hollypeterson: do you want me to post the poem you wrote for hattie when she left for like 3 days???
@georgeclarkeey: You wouldn't dare
@user1: nah they're actually my fav couple
@user2: If anyone has George I'm glad it's hattie
"This was definitely a bad idea," I laugh, although right now it feels like the greatest idea ever. Curled up in my bed together, Harry's hands are massaging my head, twirling some strands of hair in between his fingers.
"Mmph, feels pretty good to me," he murmurs, my neck vibrating from the words spilling from his lips. It's addictive.
"I've never met a man so clingy in my life," I laugh, but I don't move, enjoying the way he's practically attached to my side.
It was one week since we'd agreed to a one month trial, and so far, everything had been good - smooth sailing, and I was starting to think ahead - further than one month, ahead.
What used to feel dangerous now felt hopeful.
"I can't help it," he answers me, using his spare arm to pull me closer, if even humanly possible.
We had the apartment to ourselves. George and Hattie were out, and Arthur had travelled to see a friend. He hadn't specified which friend, which told me everything I needed to know.
"Thanks for dinner last night. Second best macaroni cheese I've ever had," I tell him, which makes him sit up and look at me like I'd said something offensive.
"Second best?!"
"That is what I just said, yeah."
"Now that's just incorrect," he tells me, shaking his head. 'Whose macaroni cheese is better than mine?"
